Adriana Stark's Story

Adriana
Aboard the F.S.S. Salient
Day One

Adriana slid out from the inner workings of the Salient's experimental particle cannon. The great hulking monster was one of her projects- she had designed it and contributed to its building. Only contributed because it was far too large for one person to build in any reasonable length of time. The cannon spanned the length of the ship and packed enough punch to break apart a ship of the same size, if not the ship it was mounted in. And some idiot on the bridge had fired it without even considering that the latter may well happen if they weren't careful. Fortunately the enemy had taken much more damage, but the cannon wasn't exactly in good shape afterwards. Adriana had been fixing the cannon for the entire duration of the FTL jump, about two weeks. She finished just in time to arrive at Iridosis and tell the workers to stay away from her territory.

Adriana threw down her wrench and walked away. Her mood was foul and had only grown more so as she continued to work on someone else's mistake. It had kept her from her research and experiments long enough, now she could get back to her life and stop wasting ammunition shooting things in the barracks. But first, a break. She had been working for six hours trying to get the last details finished up.

When she came to the mess hall, she found it packed. She was mildly surprised until she remembered that the ship had just docked. Most everybody on the ship would be leaving, very soon. One more rest, and those who hadn't taken off already would be heading out. But not far. The memorial service for the soldiers lost to Silver Eyes would be the next day. Once that was finished, the mission would begin.

Adriana inserted herself into one of the rare open spaces, and the conversation at the table dropped in volume. The look on her face spoke volumes about her mood. The soldiers aboard the Salient knew of her temper- she took out all her anger and frustration in the training areas. Quite a few of them were afraid of her. And that was just the way she liked it. She was content, until a bridge officer sat down at the table.

Reterec:
Aboard the F.S.S. Salient
Day One

Reterec was maintaining his weapons, making sure they were up to shape. It had been two weeks since the encounter, it had been a rush to get out of there. He put everything back, momentarily feeling like he had forgotten something, and then shaking it off. He made his way to the cafeteria, ready for the all clear, when he passed an observation deck. Iridosis Station. It was large, and he could see some of the repair crews moving outside.

That's when he took out something from his back pocket, a messenger. He played the last message he had gotten. "Hey, this is your brother speaking. Just letting you know, just got a promotion! I know you have been assigned to some big thing and you cant talk about it, but are you sure you cant give me even a hint? Anyways, sis wanted me to relay a message. Next time your around and on leave, you better stop by! Anyways, I gotta go, reply as soon as you can!".

That's when he continued to the cafeteria, scanning the room, spotting a few people. Including Adriana. Reterec had heard the stories, and decided that he should probably not risk it. He wanted to get whatever rest he could before the next problem surfaced. He looked at the clock, and synced his watch. "It would be so much easier if time could universally run in sync" he sighed, sitting down.

Clyde
The Salient's Mess Hall

Clyde eventually made his way to the mess hall, and as he turned the corner he groaned. It was packed. "This is not going to help my head..." He found a seat after a little searching. The last one at the table, with four soldiers and a surly looking woman with dark oil stains on her face, probably a mechanic. He pressed some buttons on the auto-chef machine, not really caring what. When his food was dispensed, he raised an eyebrow at the mess, but started eating it anyway.

The topic of discussion was the big battle against Silver Eyes. Normally soldiers would boast of their battles, certainly, but it had been weeks since then. The only reason it was still relevant was because absolutely nothing else had happened since then. At least, nothing that required serious firepower. The four had all been pilots in the battle, and they were throwing around battle statistics like it would earn them some personal fame.
"I took down fourteen fighters!"
"I never turned off my forward thrusters the entire time."
"Yeah, Well I took down sixteen fighters!"
Then one of the pilots said flatly, "Thirty-five." The other pilots stopped talking and stared at him.
"What did you say, Owens?"
"Thirty-five ships," the man answered. The table became much less boisterous after that. One of the others cleared his throat and turned to Clyde.
"What about you, new guy? What were you up to during the battle?"
Clyde was the navigator. He had been driving the Salient, and with his spare processing power plotting motions paths through the giant debris field that had probably saved all four of these men's lives. As an afterthought, he remembered the particle cannon. He had fired it twice, once to cripple a large pirate vessel that was later boarded, and once through the most dense cloud of fighters. "I destroyed Eighty-nine fighters and saved all your asses," he said with as much haughtiness as he could muster. The table burst out laughing. Even Ray hadn't taken that many out, and he died in the process.
The pilot wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. "No really, kid. What did you do?"
Clyde had a brief flash of anger, but he knew that he sounded ridiculous. It was the kid part that rankled him. "I fired the ship's main cannon through the cloud of fighters. If the damn mechanics had been able to keep up with the battle, I would've taken out a lot more than that."
All at once, the table was dead silent. All the pilots studiously examined their trays of food.
"What did you say?" The woman asked innocently.
Clyde appraised her with a critical eye. He wasn't impressed- he could do better in his sleep. He HAD done better in his sleep, but that's a story for another time. A voice somewhere in his head told him to shut up and walk away immediately, but he ignored it. "I have the highest kill count on the ship, and if it weren't for the stupid mechanics, it would be twice as high as anybody else's." Clyde gave a self satisfied grin.

Adriana put down her silverware and meshed her fingers together under her chin. "Do you know who I am?" she asked.
Clyde began to answer immediately without any thought. The files rushed into his mind from the ship's database. "Adriana Stark, the head of the Salient's science corps. You built and run the particle ... cannon.... And..... You have..." Clyde slowed down as he read the file, the color draining from his face as he saw her battle statistics and unresolved anger issues marked by past military psychologists. "The highest accuracy rating on the ship," he finished.

The two stared at each other for a solid five seconds.

Salient's Mess Hall

"Screw the -lot- of you!" From behind Clyde, a savior descends from on high, clad in the trappings of angels... or at least in a flight suit that smelled vaguely of the chemicals used to scrub atmosphere in a cockpit.

As if completely unaware of the confrontation that had potentially been brewing, she throws an arm around Clyde's shoulders with enough force to pull him back slightly from Adriana's range and into a comradely semi-hug. Hyena, ever-grinning and wild-eyed, fixes them all with a glare that was comical in its mock-seriousness.

"I caught thirty-six, AND I was baby-sitting the gunboats, AND I ran my guns dry, AND -" Here she pauses for dramatic effect, puffing out her chest and tilting her head like some propaganda poster flyboy of a bygone era, "If you'll all recall, it was Mexican day in the Mess and I had THIRDS!"

That declaration should be just enough to draw loud groans of sympathy and arrogant howls of derision that were the bread and butter of fighter jock dick-measuring. They mocked her on levels both professional and personal, and she gave right back on both fronts. She goes to pull Clyde around the table and to an empty couple of places on the other side of Adriana's ire, not taking no for an answer from the exhausted Navigator as she plunks him down and takes the seat neighboring.

"If you drive your car anything like you drive this boat, Clyde," She rounds on him, next systematically diffusing what could have been a nasty confrontation, "You've got more kills than an Asian Grandmother in rush hour, so same to you!" Holding out her hands and squinting her eyes in a horrible parody of that racist stereotype, she 'swerves' her shoulder into his.

Next, and predictably, she points a finger squarely at Adriana, "And I think we've had this discussion before, the damn canon doesn't count! Just -unsporting- is what it is. Like hunting rabbits with a nuclear warhead."

Clapping her hands soundly together, she holds them over her own tray, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to enjoy whatever that machine just shat all over my plate. Looks like a baby spit up into his own diaper." That should illicit a second round of pained moaning, and Hyena just smiles a spread of teeth at them all.

Adriana
The Mess Hall

Adriana was going to pound him. Once for every day she wasted cleaning up his cock-brained mess. She leaned forward into a crouch to get the upward push she needed to fling the table at him. The tables were bolted down, of course, because anything not bolted down in a spaceship will float, but she knew she could throw it. She had been around for the construction of the ship. All of the money had gone to her department, so anything that didn't have combat functions was given to the lowest bidder. The furniture was flimsy.

And then, seeming to appear from the ether, another pilot with the grin of some laughing feral beast came to his rescue. Adriana was contemplating whether to throw the new girl into the fray with him, but she was distracted by a brief flash of admiration for her foolhardy bravery. Nobody eats that much ship mexican food...
And then the Hyena was gone, the navigator with her.
Oh well. She had probably paid dearly for the ability to make that boast later that evening.

Next, and predictably, she points a finger squarely at Adriana, "And I think we've had this discussion before, the damn canon doesn't count! Just -unsporting- is what it is. Like hunting rabbits with a nuclear warhead."

Adriana made her best impression of Hyena's toothy grin and shot back, "There's no kill like overkill!"

Clyde

Adriana was going to pound him. He could sense it, like a squirrel about to be pounced upon by some vicious wild cat. He leaned forward into a crouch to get the upward push he needed to throw the table and run, but then a savior came to diffuse the situation with a merry distraction. He remembered this pilot. With his human brain, not just the mechanical one that read off everyone's dossier when he looked at them. She was the interesting one. The one that threw a party below decks right before the battle started...

He went with her gladly as she hauled him out of his seat. There was nowhere else he would rather be than not right there.

"If you drive your car anything like you drive this boat, Clyde, You've got more kills than an Asian Grandmother in rush hour, so same to you!" Holding out her hands and squinting her eyes in a horrible parody of that racist stereotype, she 'swerves' her shoulder into his.

Clyde smiled and pretended to reminisce about his road kills. "Well, It's no secret that I learned to drive playing Grand Theft Auto in class." He squinted his eyes and yelled with a terrible Asian accent, "where my drug money, gramma!?" while brandishing an imaginary pistol.

When Hyena commented on the food, he did not have to feign the pained moaning. Thunder seemed to split his brain all at once. He had no doubt that if he had been fighting when the headache came back in force, he would be tasting combat boot about now.
"... Thanks for the save, Hyena," he said quietly.